Random Stories

Grand Theft Mistake

Los Angeles, California

I have a very vague set of memories but they all come up to form one hell of a morning, one that didn’t exactly go according to plan. It all started off a simple guys’ night out at a local pub, we weren’t regulars of the place but we lived by “a place to drink is a place to drink”. Our little group did the usual, sit at the bar whenever we found enough empty seats close to each other and drink a couple rounds of beer.

The one problem about the place was that the crowd was pretty much a major bore, to say the least. Some of the guys and even gals around the quiet corners of the place weren’t much of our usual crowd but drinking is better with lots of people and we don’t judge. Besides, a few girls bought my friends and I a round of Tequila that we gunned down to head to their table, all of them had good looks and seemed nice enough to chill with.

One night stands are one thing that I tend to avoid, but this time around it was extremely tempting, since the girls’ intentions seemed pretty clear from the get go. The booze kept flowing and the conversations started turning towards sexier topics, of which I remember little since I was plastered by the fifth round of Tequila. Beer and Tequila mix well when you are doing submarines, but not so much when you drink them in separate bouts.

Anyways, my friends each had an arm around a girl and their shirts were mostly undone. The girls began talking about more personal details and little secrets they had, this it were it all went wrong. One of them used the phrase “post op”, which set off every single alarm I had in my head, I blurted out “Oh my God, you used to be a man?!” And believe me when I say that no woman wants to stay after hearing that, no matter how well you played her before.

Her response came swiftly, a slap across the face for me and the rest of her group walking away without my friends. Turns out she was simply speaking of her breast reduction surgery, kind of funny when you think about it right? Some of the other patrons didn’t think feel that, so I was “escorted” out of the bar with a couple of my friends who decided to get a bit rowdy.

No one was looking for trouble, but there was a small party going in the pub and the guests didn’t take too kindly to our attitude. Besides, now that I think about it my friends may or may not have been talking loudly and laughing obnoxiously, so it all came down to how much crap the pub’s staff and customers could put up with. I suggested it we called it a night, but my friends¡ were pissed off and needed a few more drinks. The last thing I remember was that we called a cab and went to a different pub where we drank until sunset.

My car had been parked on the street close to the pub where we started, all my friends ditched me and headed home in a cab so I was left alone to care for my car in the early morning. I had sobered up enough that I thought it was a good idea to just sleep in the car for a bit, at least until I could drive it.

I’ll go ahead and admit I’m not the greatest intellect in the world, much less when blue-balled and drunk. But I couldn’t figure out why my key wouldn’t work in my car, I tried forcing the door handle and even kicking it a bit. There was a little detail, though. It was not my car and I was in the wrong street, which didn’t seem as funny for the cop that took me to the station as it did to me.

Pain Ball

Columbus, Ohio

Playing with friends is awesome, even more so when what you play is Paint Ball! My group of friends and I like to do a bi-weekly game of paint ball after classes, it’s a good work out and it helps to let off some steam. Our passion for the game grew to a point where we bought our own gear; we stopped using rentals and began building our own little battlefield.

We eventually found a dilapidated building where we could play, even at night. It was a bit creepy and dangerous, we did try our best to cover up a few holes and even set what areas we could play in without much worry. It was fun to take cover around the pillars of the structure and a few barricades we made out of wood.

No one really came by, and the place was isolated enough that we could be as loud as we wanted without calling for attention. We even thought of holding matches with some of the other guys from the field we used to play in, but common sense said otherwise. I guess most of us knew the broken down building had to someone’s property. Adding more people to the felony list wasn’t going to help; besides this was our thing.

The building had its downside, just like any good thing does. It seemed like it was used to hold raves or it was used like a motel by hobos. We had to clear a few pieces of debris a few time, some assholes apparently took to smashing the walls and anything left inside the building with a sledge hammer, which was the case with our barricades. Rebuilding and cleaning the place became a small hobby, but damn it this place was ours!

One night we started playing around with a pair of night vision goggles, we made a deal not to shoot the guy wearing them to avoid any accidents. We took turns using them and played a little game, no one but the guy with the goggles was allowed to shoot. The idea was that whoever remained hidden in the building without being hit would win.

I was winning so far, but I had to move out from my hiding place. I made a dash to a new hiding spot once “the hunter” turned around, I tripped and he turned back quickly. He fired blindly…straight into my crotch.

It stung so badly I was reduced to tears in seconds, he shot me from a short distance so the impact was dead on. My friends carried me like a woman in labor onto the back of a car since I couldn’t walk. Our kick ass night turned into a short stay at the hospital, followed by lots of snickering as I iced my swollen testicle.

The guys stayed over since they felt guilty, but I knew they just wanted to enjoy the kick they got out of my misfortune. I guess it can all be summed up by the way one of them put it, “Last night was a ball!” Indeed, thanks for the shattered hopes of parenthood.

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